


The Twelve Days of Christmas

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Humor, Magical Accidents, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you’re saying,” Regina responded slowly, almost disbelievingly despite all the facts being laid out in front of her, “that I’m being harassed by the Twelve Days of Christmas?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twelve Days of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [BellaRei713](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/641948/BellaRei713)  
>  **For:** [SwenSecretSanta on Tumblr](http://swensecretsanta.tumblr.com/) (gift for [mscrazybird](http://mscrazybird.tumblr.com/))  
>  **A/N:** I think most of you know by now that I am not a fluff writer. At like, _all_. But I wanted to try something different, and even if it’s not my best work in the history of ever, I hope you find it entertaining nonetheless. Just try not to take it too seriously, lol.

**1.**

“I’m calling to report a crime.”

Emma’s breath left her and she responded, “What…?” into her cell phone in the most unprofessional tone ever because oh God, the last time she had spoken to Regina it had ended in an impromptu kiss and more blushing than one person should really be allowed to do. It had been an accident due to too much spiked egg nog, Emma’s apparent lack of self-control, and the unexpected twist of Regina having the voice of a freaking _angel_ , and now Emma was hiding out in the Sherriff’s office, completely mortified and trying to work through how in the hell she was ever going to face the mother of her son again.

“A _crime,_ Sherriff,” Regina repeated, her impatient tone filtering through the phone. “That is your job, is it not?”

“I… uh, yeah,” Emma stumbled, nearly tripping over herself to get to her desk in order to take down the report. _Focus,_ she internally berated herself as she grabbed a pen. _Don’t make yourself look like more of an idiot._ “Is… ah, wh—what happened…?”

Smooth, Swan.

“My apple tree.”

Emma blinked. That wasn’t really specific. “…What about it?”

“It…” Regina began, her irritation laying waste to hesitancy and a brief flicker of self-doubt as she reported the unusual findings. “It tastes like… pears.”

Emma’s pen was placed back down on the desk as a look of confusion washed over her face. “What, the whole tree, or just the apples?” 

And then she replayed that sentence back in her head.

_Oh, for the love of—_ “What do you think I do, Miss Swan, chew on the bark?” Regina snapped back exasperatedly, and God, Emma could practically _hear_ the roll of her eyes. The blonde flushed and began muttering apologies into the phone, feeling incapable of just functioning correctly around the other woman anymore. It was mortifying.

“Emma, please just—” Regina began, cutting off the Sherriff’s slew of words that were probably strung together in an incomprehensible way anyhow. “Stop making our interaction painfully awkward. I’m aware you were drunk when you kissed me last night; I’ve let it go. For the sake of both of our sanities, I suggest you do so as well.”

“Right, I—sorry,” Emma stumbled, feeling her cheeks burn brighter at being called out on why she was acting like such a spaz. It wasn’t like this was the first time she had accidentally drunk-kissed someone, but this was the first time it really… 

No, she wasn’t going to go there. 

Clearing her throat, Emma picked up her pen again and tried to focus on her actual _job._ “So you think someone… ah, put a spell on your tree or something?”

“Well do you have any other explanation?” Regina countered, as though Emma would be stupid if she considered anything else; like oh, say, the possibility that Regina’s taste buds might just be a little off today. “Someone has defaced my property, Sherriff, and I want them punished for it. That apple tree is one of the few things left from our realm and it should be respected as a… as a historical _landmark_ , not defaced in some ill-advised teenage prank, or some backwards form of peasant justice.”

_Peasant justice._ And Regina wondered why, despite the many times she had tried to redeem herself for her past crimes, some people still didn’t like her. Emma sighed heavily into the phone.

“Regina, did you maybe… you know, chew some pear-flavored _gum_ or something before you ate—?”

“I’m not an idiot, Miss Swan,” Regina snapped, starting to get frustrated again. “Nor am I finished with my list of grievances.”

“…There’s more?”

“Yes, there’s…” Regina began, then hesitated once more before admitting, “There is something living in it. Perhaps nesting; I’m unsure.”

“Nesting?”

“A bird.”

“So…?”

Regina clicked her tongue impatiently. “So I would like you to _remove_ it, Emma; it will ruin the tree’s produce if allowed to stay. You have one hour; I suggest you make the most of it.”

 

**2.**

“They’ve multiplied,” a voice said on the other end of the phone, without even the pleasantry of a ‘hello.’

“…What?” Emma groaned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she looked over at the digital clock next to her bed. “Regina, it’s six thirty in the morning.”

“I’m aware of what time it is, Emma, and perhaps if you had done your job _adequately,_ we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“What do you—” Emma began, frustration beginning to wash off her in waves as she tangled her fingers in her hair. “Regina, I got the stupid bird out of your tree!”

“Well it’s _returned,_ ” Regina stressed, completely uncaring that she had destroyed the blonde’s sleep. “And it’s brought friends; two doves, by the look of it. God only knows what _they’ll_ do to my apples, should they be given the chance…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Regina, your apples still taste like pears anyway, so why do you even _care—?_ ”

“One hour, Sherriff.”

The line abruptly went dead, and Emma threw her phone across the room before shoving her face into her pillow and screaming. God damn her, because the fucking worst part of it all, the most _pathetic_ part of it all, was that no matter what freaking time of the day it was, should Regina call, Emma knew she would come running.

Why the hell did she have to develop a crush on someone so incredibly high maintenance? 

 

**3.**

“Grace thinks my mom should go on American Idol.”

“What?” Emma asked sharply, the unexpected conversation making her cheeks immediately flush in remembrance of that night. She gripped the steering wheel a little harder as her preteen son gave her a strange look, and Emma cleared her throat as she tried again. “I, uh… think she’s a little too old for that show, kid.”

“And probably too much of a fairytale character for the background check,” Henry noted, which Emma had to agree with. Silence passed between the two people in the car for a moment before the boy casually mentioned, “You know, my mom used to sing to me when I was little. It helped me sleep, I guess. But she hasn’t in a while, and even when she did, it was never like _that…_ ”

“Yeah, she’s, uh… she’s really good,” Emma agreed, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as red as she imagined them. “I don’t know why she hid it for so long.”

“Maybe she was just shy or something.”

Maybe, but Regina didn’t _seem_ shy when she was up there singing in front of the whole town. Unlike Emma, who had been standing directly next to her and hoping she could find some way to blend in with the wall. Why she had let her mother talk her into joining the holiday choir for the annual Christmas Festival, she would never know. She couldn’t sing to save her freaking life, and all it ended up being was an embarrassment.

On quite a lot of different levels.

“Maybe,” Emma agreed in a murmur as she headed towards Mifflin Street, lost in her own thoughts. Henry looked over at her.

“You were good too,” he tried, but Emma just scoffed at that before shooting him a disbelieving look.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to just butter me up for better Christmas presents or what, but I can assure you, kid, I am _not_ good. If I was, Mary Margaret wouldn’t have told me to just mouth the words after she realized the mistake she made by putting me in that damn thing.”

“You didn’t even _sing?_ ” Henry asked, giggling as Emma shook her head no. “Is that why Grandma got Mom to be in it then, because they were missing a voice?”

Emma had to suppress the urge to snort at that theory. Mary Margaret hadn’t wanted Regina in the choir at _all_ , but as usual, Regina had used her influence of mayor to insert herself wherever she wanted, most likely for no other reason than to undermine her former enemy’s authority. Regina _claimed_ it was because the citizens of Storybrooke needed to see her as part of the community, but after practically ordering Mary Margaret out of the choir director’s chair and giving herself more solos than the younger brunette, who had been the star of the show for years, Emma was inclined to believe it had been more personal than professional.

Still, Henry didn’t need to know that things were still rocky between his mother and grandmother, as both women had agreed to at least put aside their differences while in front of him. After Neverland, all the constant bickering seemed to really get him down; Henry just wanted them to be one big happy family for once, and since that was something they had all decided to try to give him for the holidays, Emma responded instead with, “Yeah, I’m sure that was it.”

“Why didn’t you just quit?” Henry asked as Emma turned her blinker on, preparing to turn down Regina’s road. It was her weekend with their son, and Regina had asked her to pick him up from school that afternoon; presumably because she was busy with work. “I mean, if you didn’t even sing, what was the point of being up there?”

_Because your mother wouldn’t let me,_ Emma answered bitterly inside her own head. After Regina had taken over the choir Emma had _tried,_ but all that amounted to was the former queen spouting off the same bullshit about authority figures participating in community activities, and the unspoken threat that, should Emma value her job, she would do as she was instructed. 

In actuality though, Emma was pretty sure that Regina just enjoyed embarrassing her.

“Because quitters never win,” Emma responded instead, but then scrunched up her face as she pulled into Regina’s driveway. “Or… something to that effect.”

Henry snorted as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Where did you get that, The Parent’s Handbook?”

“Probably a TV show,” Emma admitted as she stepped from the car. But just as she was about to ask Henry if he needed help getting his bags, the front door to the manor flung open and the figure of one very _angry_ brunette stepped onto the porch.

“ _Miss Swan!_ ”

Oh no.

“What? What did I do?” Emma immediately asked, whipping around in a panic in response to being scolded. But before Regina could answer, suddenly there was the sound of clucking, and a singular red hen popped out from around the brunette’s legs.

“Regina, what the—?”

A second one filtered out of Regina’s house, followed shortly by a third. And then, like the icing on the damn cake, came the sound of cooing from Regina’s apple tree in the backyard.

Okay, this really couldn’t be normal.

“…Mom, why did you get _chickens?_ ”

The vein on Regina’s forehead suddenly looked as though it were about to burst.

 

**4.**

“You _do_ realize that you could just call animal control, right?” Emma grumbled as she got up on the ladder, a net firmly clasped in her left hand. The new inhabitants of Regina’s apple tree – four blackbirds – seemed to openly mock her with their incessant chirping. Regina smirked.

“Now why would I do that, dear, when I have an able-bodied Sherriff at my disposal?”

“I’m not your personal bird-wrangler,” Emma grumbled as she swiped the net towards the tree, only to hit a branch and have it come swinging back in retaliation towards her face. “Oh, Jesus fucking—!”

“Language!” Regina scolded as she warmed her hands around her cup of tea. “Our son could hear you. It’s bad enough that you’ve already taught him to slouch; the last thing he needs is your colorful vocabulary.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you actually helped instead of just standing there staring at my ass, I might not end up getting wacked in the face by a freaking branch.”

Silence.

Emma pursed her lips and instantly berated herself for saying that out loud. It wasn’t like it was new or anything, them saying that kind of stuff to one another. More often than not it seemed they liked to flirt in their own special little way, but after what happened at the Christmas Festival, that was probably a line that shouldn’t be crossed anymore. It kind of made things all too real which, Emma was assuming anyway, Regina wasn’t interested in.

But it seemed after the initial awkwardness, Regina deemed the moment innocent enough to proceed, and responded with a raised eyebrow and a playfully haughty, “You certainly think very highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Emma suppressed a smile, relieved that Regina was allowing their interaction to return to normal; it made things so much easier, and a hell of lot less embarrassing. “Yeah well, not my fault I have a nice ass,” she retorted as she tried to swipe for one of the birds that had perched on a branch not far from her head.

“Mmm,” Regina murmured in agreement as she allowed her eyes to scan the expanse of the blonde’s backside, which, by the way, was nowhere even _near_ the realm of normal for them anymore. 

Normal was Emma making stupid flirtatious comments, _normal_ was Regina dismissing them with an eye roll and an amused smirk; normal was not, under any circumstances, Regina _agreeing_ with said stupid comments, and actually flirting _back._

As such, Emma completely missed the bird she was going for at the same time as trying to whip around to face Regina, and the movement was so quick and so uncoordinated that her foot twisted awkwardly, catching on one of the rungs of the ladder. “Emma!” Regina exclaimed as the blonde noticeably lost her balance, and the only thing Emma could think of was a resigned “…Shit,” as she came tumbling down to the frozen ground, her head smacking loudly against one of Regina’s decorative garden rocks.

Everything went black.

 

**5.**

Emma was awoken by the soft sound of singing as fingers threaded gently through her hair. The nice feeling was short lasting however, as waking up alerted Emma’s brain to the pain residing in the back of her skull, and the blonde groaned as she tried to open her eyes and sit up.

“Shh,” Regina hushed her, placing her hands on Emma’s arms to keep her still. “Don’t move; you may have a concussion and it could cause you to get nauseous.” 

“What happened?” Emma asked groggily, keeping her eyes closed and her body still per the brunette’s instruction while Regina continued to gently run her fingers through her tresses. It was such an unexpected gesture, being touched by Regina in this way. Logically Emma knew it was probably just the woman’s motherly instincts kicking in, but in the back of her mind she liked to pretend it was something more than that regardless.

Which, in the end, probably wasn’t healthy or smart in the slightest, and yet Emma chose to enjoy it all the same. She’d be stupid not to.

“You fell from the ladder and hit your head on a rock,” Regina told her, sounding almost guilty about it. “Thankfully you didn’t need stitches; it was only some bruising, which I was able to heal fairly easily, but you’ve still been out for quite a while.”

“How long?”

“Nearly twelve hours.”

“Shit,” Emma breathed, the back of her head throbbing. “Is Henry…?”

“He’s worried,” Regina admitted, fingers idly playing with a strand of hair near Emma’s jaw. “He stayed with you for most of the afternoon, but it’s nearly three in the morning now; I had to put him to bed.”

“Why are you still awake?”

Regina hesitated for a moment, her fingers stilling in the blonde’s hair. “I… I didn’t wish to leave you alone without someone watching over you. It’s my fault you fell, and—”

“No, Regina—” Emma tried to protest, opening her eyes to look up at the woman seated next to her on the bed. But the light, despite being dim, seemed far too harsh in that moment, and so she groaned and closed her eyes once more.

“It was,” Regina insisted, guilt filtering into her tone once more as she looked down at the woman beside her. “It wasn’t your job to deal with the birds, and yet I insisted on it all the same because I…” Chewing on her bottom lip, Regina hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I may enjoy ordering you around a little too much.”

“Great, thanks,” Emma responded dryly. It’s always nice to hear that the woman you have a gigantic crush on enjoys using you as some kind of loyal puppy for their own amusement.

That was probably the definition of masochism.

“No, I—” Regina began, sounding a little flustered. “I didn’t mean it like that; I merely…” She sighed heavily, but no other words came. Either she really did mean what she said and didn’t have another explanation, or she was afraid to voice the one that she had.

“It’s okay, Regina,” Emma responded softly, letting the woman off the hook. “I’m always going to come when you call; that’s just the way it is.”

“Because I’m the Mayor?” Regina asked, voice just as quiet as she threaded her fingers through the blonde’s hair once more. There was something in her tone, maybe that she wished that it _wasn’t_ solely for that reason, but Emma feared being wrong about that and so she lied.

“Yeah… s’my job, you know?”

“…Of course.”

She almost sounded disappointed, and it made Emma’s heart clench in her chest. But Regina couldn’t feel the same way she did, could she? When Emma had idiotically kissed her that night, Regina didn’t exactly reciprocate; she looked shocked and maybe even a little offended before practically fleeing from the reception hall, leaving Emma alone and feeling like a complete idiot. If she had returned her feelings, wouldn’t she have kissed her back?

“Still,” Regina continued after a moment’s silence. “It’s an abuse of power, Emma, and I’m very sorry.”

“Its fine,” Emma insisted, because really, while a part of her hated being Regina’s official cursed bird-wrangler at all hours of the day (because this had to be some kind of curse right? No matter what she did, the birds always came back the next day and then somehow managed to freaking multiply), there was still a part of her that enjoyed the excuse of being able to see Regina. “I’m alive, so it could be worse. Although to be honest I’m about two seconds away from just getting my gun and _shooting_ those damn birds down; screw Mary Margaret and her insistence that I love and respect all animals right now, those things are fucking obnoxious.”

Regina chuckled softly. “I don’t think that would help, dear. Even if you killed them, more would just show up the next day; that seems to be the pattern.”

“So the consensus is that someone cursed you then?” Emma asked as she tried once more to open her eyes, suddenly feeling awfully weird about having a conversation with them continuously closed. The light was still harsh, but the throbbing in the back of her skull had dulled a little since she had been conscious, so she was able to tolerate it. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, Emma looked up at Regina, who was sitting to the left of her and asked, “Who the hell would curse you with _poultry_ though? That’s like… the weirdest curse ever.”

Regina scrunched up her nose for a moment before admitting, “It’s… not just birds anymore.”

“What?” Emma asked, her brow furrowing. Each new day had brought more birds, so why would it suddenly change now? “What’s today’s thing then?”

Regina pursed her lips into a tight line before slowly bringing her left hand from behind her back, revealing five clunky rings on each of her fingers. Emma snorted; she couldn’t help it. “Nice bling.”

“It’s not funny!” Regina insisted, lines of annoyance etching across her face. “They materialized on my hand around midnight, and now they won’t come off!”

“Oh, come on, it’s a little funny,” Emma chuckled, looking at the assortment of rings on Regina’s fingers. “Why are they all _men’s_ rings?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. They were large and clunky, not small and delicate like female rings usually were.

“I don’t know, nor do I care,” Regina answered in a huff. “What I _do_ care about is finding the culprit. This is absolutely ridiculous and it’s gone on long enough.”

“Yeah, well, that’s going to have to wait until the morning, because right now I’m still a little…” Emma waved her hand a little in front of her head, indicating she still felt a little loopy; the lighting was still bothering her, as was her head, and everything still seemed a little blurry. Regina’s face etched in guilt once more as she pursed her lips.

“I really am very sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” Emma murmured as she stifled a yawn. “I already said it’s not your fault. Besides, if you really want to help, maybe you could, I don’t know… sing me back to sleep or something…?” The blonde tried to keep her tone casual, but in the end she sounded more hopeful than anything else as she risked peeking at Regina. The woman was smiling shyly.

“You heard me then.”

“You… you have a really nice voice,” Emma complimented softly, a soft pink hue coloring her cheeks as she shifted beneath the sheets, curling up on her side. 

“So you’ve told me once before.”

Emma’s blush deepened, as the last time she had told Regina that it was right before she kissed her. Bringing the sheets up a little higher in order to hide her embarrassment, Emma mumbled, “Yeah, well… you do. It’s just a fact, not my… I mean, it’s not necessarily my opinion or anything; everyone knows you do, you know? At least now.”

Regina smiled gently down at her, fingers idly playing with the base of Emma’s hair once more. “Well, I appreciate the compliment regardless, Miss Swan,” she responded softly. “And if it’ll make you feel better, then I will. I suppose it’s the least I can do.”

Emma returned her smile before letting her eyes to drift closed, allowing Regina’s angelic voice to lull her back into a deep and peaceful sleep.

 

**6.**

“…Mother Goose and her flock have invaded my backyard,” Regina told her flatly the next morning, sounding very unamused by this turn of events. “Evidently we are back to birds.”

“Mother Goose actually has a flock of geese?” Emma questioned as she cradled her cell phone to her ear, heading back towards her car. “I thought she was just like… an imaginary author of children’s rhymes.”

“Well I wouldn’t know if she ever penned rhymes, but I can assure you, dear, she is not imaginary.” Regina sighed heavily on the other line. “Please tell me you’ve found some sort of lead. I don’t know how much more of this I can take; her damned birds are laying _eggs_ in my azalea bushes right now.”

“Well, I figured out where your rings came from at least,” Emma supplied as she stepped into her car and out of the cold. Although it was below freezing it still had yet to snow, and Emma found herself worrying that it wouldn’t be a white Christmas this year. As much as she despised driving in the stuff, it just wasn’t the same without snow on Christmas morning.

“Where?”

“Gold filed a theft complaint this morning about them,” Emma told her as she turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life. “I told him they’re with you and that they’re stuck on your fingers, but he wasn’t much help in that area; he just told me to see them returned once I figured out how to break whatever spell you were under.”

“Lovely,” Regina responded flatly. Emma could hear squawking in the background and she scrunched up her nose in sympathy.

“The hens get in again?”

“…They’re persistent.”

Emma sighed heavily as she drove away from Gold’s pawn shop. This was _weird._ At first she thought it was just some kind of bird-curse, but then where the hell did the rings fit in all of that? It seemed so entirely out of left field, and yet still, there was something familiar nagging in the back of Emma’s mind, like she had heard of something like this before. But how could she, it wasn’t like she was well-versed in magic spells or anything…

Regina was swearing at one of the birds that had pecked her, but the soft song that was playing on the radio was what caught Emma’s attention. “Wait, wait!” she exclaimed as she turned the volume up, something beginning to click in the back of her mind as the lyrics to the song resonated with their situation.

“What, what is it?” Regina asked, directly before yelling at one of the birds. “Out, out! _Get out of my kitchen!_ ”

Oh my god, how didn’t she see it before…?

Emma quickly turned off the radio as she pulled over, before clasping the phone tighter to her ear in realization. “The Twelve Days of Christmas!” she exclaimed to a very annoyed Regina, who apparently was still fighting with one of the hens.

“What on earth are you talking about?” the brunette snapped into the phone, before shouting again, “I said get _out!_ ”

Emma heard the faint sound of a door slamming on the other end of the line, followed by a distinct sigh of relief. Well, at least she managed that problem, but if Emma was right, that meant there were six more to come.

“The first day your apples tasted like pears, right? And there was a bird in it— a partridge?”

“How should I know? I’m not an Ornithologist.”

“…A what?”

“A person who studies birds, dear.”

“Oh.” Well, whatever. “Okay, but just hear me out. The second day was doves, right? And then hens, three of them. And then I guess those blackbirds were calling birds or something—”

“Colly birds,” Regina corrected. Off of a quizzical murmur from Emma, the woman explained, “That’s the actual lyrics to the song, although it’s often sung incorrectly.”

“Right, okay, so maybe they were those then,” Emma continued, starting to get a little excited since she was finally starting to piece things together. “And then there was the rings…”

“Yes, but most of them are silver, Emma, so I don’t see how—”

“Yeah, but they’re _from_ Mr. Gold,” Emma reminded her. “They’re his rings, so maybe it’s just some weird interpretation, like how your apples taste like pears now, or why Mother Goose is currently in your back yard.”

There was silence from the other end of the line as the woman took a second to process that information. “So you’re saying,” Regina responded slowly, almost disbelievingly despite all the facts being laid out in front of her, “that I’m being harassed by the Twelve Days of Christmas?”

“Okay, I know it sounds… weird,” Emma admitted with a shrug. “But it makes sense, right? I mean, you gotta see that.”

“So I’m to expect another week of this nonsense?” Regina asked, sounding thoroughly annoyed now, most likely because she couldn’t think of anything to contradict the theory. “I will not accept that.”

“Maybe not,” Emma tried, not really wanting to deal with another week of this either. “Maybe this is just some kind of spell gone wrong, you know? So if we just found out who cast it—”

“Then perhaps we could break it.”

“Exactly.”

How hard could it be, right?

 

**7.**

“Alright so, good news is that whoever’s camping out in your backyard isn’t Mother Goose,” Emma said once Regina had opened the front door to greet her, immediately getting down to business as she stepped into the foyer. “It’s just like a copy of her or whatever, because the real one is cooped up in her house with the flu. Bad news is, I still haven’t figured out who cast the spell. If it makes you feel any better though, you’re not the only one who weird things have been happening to—”

“ _Emma,_ ” Regina interrupted flatly, before closing the front door behind the blonde and pressing her lips into a tight line. “I’m going to need you to take Henry back to your apartment for the remainder of this little… incident.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What, why?”

Regina hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable before admitting in a low voice, “…The Swans have arrived.” The way she said it made it sound far more dramatic than what the situation no doubt actually called for, and Emma just rolled her eyes. 

“So? Just shove them out into the back yard like all the other birds—”

“No,” Regina interrupted, holding up her hand to stop Emma’s words. Despite looking as though this situation was far past her comfort zone, there was still a small hint of amusement in her eyes. It was strangely contradicting. “No, no. You misunderstand me, dear. They’re not _birds…_ ”

Oh.

Oh _no._

“Please don’t tell me—”

“There are seven of you,” Regina confirmed, pursing her lips in what was no doubt an effort to keep herself from outright laughing at the horror that had etched itself across Emma’s face, “ _playing_ in my bathtubs.”

“What do you mean _playing?_ ” Emma asked, dreading the answer to the question as she asked it. But then something clicked as she questioned immediately afterwards, “Wait a minute, how can seven of me fit in your tub?”

“There are five of you in my Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom,” Regina answered before her gaze landed on the closed door of the downstairs one and pointed, “and two of you in there. Who are, by far, my least favorite of the bunch.”

Emma was almost afraid to ask. “…Why?”

Regina didn’t _blush,_ not really anyway, but right then it was the closest the woman ever got to it as she awkwardly cleared her throat and admitted, “They keep insisting that I… play with them. They’re quite pushy and don’t really enjoy the answer ‘no’.”

_Oh god._

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Please tell me they just mean with bath toys or something,” Emma groaned, covering her face with her hands as she wished she could just disappear. This was so beyond the realm of okay she didn’t even know where to begin.

“The ones upstairs have taken a liking to Henry’s old toys,” Regina responded, trying to keep her voice even and factual as she informed Emma of the situation. “Them, I don’t mind. But the two down here... well, they seem to like to play with each other more than anything else. It’s not a suitable environment for a child, Emma, so I’d appreciate it if you got Henry out of here sooner rather than later.”

Emma’s face was as red as a tomato. It was bad enough this spell was causing her to have seven clones, but two of them were… were… _masturbating_ each other? Or whatever the hell you would call it, if that’s what Regina was implying, which… Emma was fairly certain that she was.

Oh God, this was fucking humiliating.

“Please just—just tell me they’re in bathing suits at least,” Emma tried, grasping onto straws in an effort to make herself feel better about this entire situation. She was walking in endless circles as she tangled her fingers in her hair, like she had short-circuited and she didn’t know how to function properly anymore. 

“Do you _usually_ go in the tub with your bathing suit, Miss Swan…?”

No. Which was all the answer Emma really needed to that. She groaned, face flushing in embarrassment once more. Great, the first time Regina sees her naked and it’s _clones_ doing only god knows what in the woman’s bathtub. This situation was going from bad to worse.

“If it makes you feel any better, dear, your body…” Regina began, looking a little embarrassed as she attempted to make Emma less so, “well, it isn’t the most terrible thing I’ve ever looked at.”

“How, _how_ exactly, is that supposed to make me feel better?” Emma demanded, whipping around to face her. She felt so hopeless beneath the weight of her humiliation that it almost wanted to make her cry. “You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted— and now it’s all… _fuck._ God, this is such _crap,_ Regina!”

Regina chewed on her bottom lip as her hands wrapped around her midsection, looking terribly sympathetic towards the frustrated woman in front of her. She hesitated for a long moment before finally asking, “…How long you’ve wanted what?” as though despite how much she tried, despite how much she knew this probably wasn’t the right moment to ask, the question had burst from her regardless.

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma muttered, trying to keep her emotions in check as she headed towards the stairs. “Just lemme get Henry out of here, then I’ll be back with some clothes for the clones. Just don’t… don’t look at them while I’m gone, okay? Please.”

“I won’t,” Regina promised softly, lines of distress etching in her face as she watched how upset this made the woman in front of her. “Emma, I’m—I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Emma dismissed flatly, because really, how could it be? It wasn’t like Regina _asked_ for seven naked Emmas in her bathroom. She didn’t even want _one_ naked Emma in her life, for Christ’s sake, let alone multiples of her.

Fuck, this was such a stupid thing to get upset over, and yet the more Emma thought about it, the worse it made her feel. Even though she doubted Regina would ever want her in that way, Emma had imagined the moment, you know? The first time they saw each other naked. And now… now this stupid spell or _whatever_ had taken that from her, and it was just upsetting. But it was stupid, right? To mourn a fantasy. It would never have become real anyway, because Regina, she… she didn’t want her. 

And like it or not, Emma really needed to start learning to accept that, otherwise she was just going to keep getting upset over things that were never going to happen.

 

**8.**

“I hate them,” Emma exclaimed angrily as she stormed out of Regina’s bathroom, slamming the door in her wake. The damn clones still refused to put clothes on, and the two downstairs continued to harass anyone who went into the bathroom. But she had needed to pee _somewhere,_ and as both of Regina’s bathrooms were taken up by a plethora of naked hers, Emma didn’t have much choice.

Well, she supposed she could have just gone upstairs. The five up there, at least, were too busy playing with rubber ducks and plastic battleships to be sexually provocative. 

“I know, dear,” Regina responded sympathetically as the blonde slumped onto the couch next to her, this defeated look plastered on her face. The sound of a cow mooing came from the kitchen, and Emma sighed heavily as she rubbed her temples.

The milk maids had shown up this morning, apparently all clones of Regina’s handmaidens that she had had when she was queen. They were silent for the most part, just going about their business, but Regina’s kitchen was now completely unable to be entered, as the cows took up a hell of a lot of space. Emma had suggested Regina just stay at her apartment for the rest of the spell, but the brunette was convinced the spell was about _her,_ and thus would follow her wherever she went, so really, they might as well just keep them all contained to one area. 

It really was a good thing that Regina had been working from home for the holidays, because the last thing Emma would want is seven naked lookalikes running around City Hall. Or running around anywhere, for that matter.

“Okay, so,” Emma began, just pushing all of the distractions from her mind in order to focus on the problem at hand. “You remember when I came back to give the clones some clothes yesterday and I told you about what was going on with Mary Margaret?”

“The animals,” Regina responded as she cradled her cup of coffee between her hands, the ceramic of it clinking against the large rings that adorned her fingers. “Yes, dear, I remember. Although I hardly see how that relates to—”

“Just… hear me out for a second,” Emma interrupted, holding up her hand. “I talked to her this morning, and I think we might have figured out how she ended up being able to talk to them again. Which, by the way, you really don’t know weird until you’ve had breakfast with a freaking _deer_ , but whatever; apparently it and Mary Margaret are like BFFs now. I’m trying not to judge.” Waving that off, Emma continued with, “Anyway, we think it might be something to do with wishes, since she apparently wished that she could again for… whatever reason. I don’t know, maybe she was lonely.”

Regina’s brow rose in disbelief. “You believe I _wished_ for the Twelve Days of Christmas to take over my home? Because I can assure you, dear, I very much did not.”

Well, okay. That was out then. Unless…

“No, okay, well maybe not _you_ then, exactly, but maybe someone else could have—”

…Oh, _no._

“What?” Regina asked, taking notice of the look on Emma’s face as she placed her cup back down on the coffee table. “What is it?”

Oh God, why didn’t she think this through before she came to talk to Regina? After Mary Margaret had told her that she had wished for something and then it happened, Emma had just assumed the clusterfuck that was currently going on in Regina’s house was just some kind of wish-gone-wrong. And maybe it still was, but Emma had assumed that it was _Regina’s_ wish, and as such hadn’t even taken a second to think that it could have be someone else’s until the brunette had basically vetoed her theory. And now, _now_ that she was thinking about it…

Oh shit, this was _her_ fault! _She_ had wished for this, even though… even though this wasn’t exactly what Emma had meant, and it hadn’t been anything more than an idle though, but fucking hell, if she had even thought for a moment that something like this would have happened, she would have _never—_

“Emma?”

“I… I have to go,” Emma stumbled, rising suddenly from the couch. Guilt and embarrassment burned in the pit of her gut as she realized quite suddenly that this was all her own doing, and she quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, I just—this is _my_ fault, and I need to… I have to fix this. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Regina asked, rising right after Emma as the blonde headed out of the parlor and towards her front door. “What do you mean, this is _your—_ Emma!”

But Emma really, _really_ didn’t want to elaborate on that, and so she ran out of Regina’s front door without another word, set on fixing the mess she had started so that, if nothing else, she wouldn’t actually be forced to ever talk about why it had begun in the first place.

 

**9.**

Henry looked guilty.

“Oh no,” Emma muttered, having a bad feeling about this. “What now?”

After talking with Mary Margaret again about the wishes and who could have been responsible for allowing them to come true (Fairies? That was Emma’s first thought, but her mother said they only granted children wishes and therefore it was unlikely they were involved), Henry had come out of hiding from what Emma could only assuming was _eavesdropping_ on their conversation, this guilty look plastered all over his face as he wrung his hands behind his back.

“Kid,” Emma addressed, her eyebrow rising the further Henry slunk downwards. “Did you make a wish?”

“…I thought it would help.”

“Help _what?_ ”

“Everyone to have a nice Christmas,” he muttered, scuffing his boot into the hardwood floor. “I know everyone’s just pretending to get along in front of me. Mom and Grams still don’t like each other, and lately _you’ve_ been avoiding Mom and it’s making her really sad. So I thought, maybe if everyone just got what they wanted for Christmas this year, everyone would be so happy that they’d forget about all the bad stuff. And that maybe you guys would even be happy enough that we could all spend it _together_ for once, like a real family.” 

Emma’s heart clenched in her chest and she knelt down in front of her son to get at eye level. “Henry, your mom and Grandma still have a lot to work through, but they _are_ getting better, I promise. It’s just gonna take some time, you know? And as for me, I… well, I haven’t been _avoiding_ Regina per say—”

“Yes, you have,” Henry told her, not about to let her bullshit her way through _that._ “When we got back from Neverland you guys hung out a few times with family dinners and things, but the last couple months you’ve been pretending you have to work late so you don’t have to come over. Mom never says anything, but it makes her sad; I think she really wants to be your friend, Emma.” 

Okay, their son was far more intuitive than they gave him credit for. But in her defense—oh who was she kidding, she didn’t have a real defense. She had just realized she was developing all these feelings for Regina and, in fear of them never being returned, completely bolted. She hadn’t… well she didn’t think Regina would actually _care;_ she though the woman was just placating her for the sake of their shared son. 

And honestly, if it hadn’t been Emma’s job as Sherriff to track down why magical mishaps like this were happening, after she had stupidly kissed Regina, she probably would have run even further away from her. It was just her instinctual reaction.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, Henry,” Emma apologized, feeling awful about her son being stuck in the middle of all their weird family drama. “Maybe I have been— well, sometimes, for adults, things can get complicated, and… and instead of dealing with them, we can sometimes feel the urge to… well, run away.”

“Why?”

It was such an innocent question, and Emma pursed her lips sympathetically as she admitted, “Because we’re afraid.”

“You’re afraid of my Mom?” Henry asked, like that was weird even though she had been _The Evil Queen_ and terrified the general masses of this town even when she was nothing but the Mayor. But to Henry, Regina was just _Regina_ now, and it seemed to honestly perplex him that Emma would be afraid of her.

“I’m… I’m afraid that I want more from her than she’s willing to give me,” Emma tried to explain, in the best, non-specific way she could. Henry frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Oh, this so wasn’t the conversation to be having with her son. She couldn’t even have it with _Regina._

“It’s just… it’s an adult thing, kid. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Henry glowered. “I hate when you say things like—”

Emma’s cell phone rang. Mother and son looked over at the offending object on the table next to them, and a name flashed brightly against the screen’s dark background: REGINA MILLS. Emma hesitated.

“Don’t ignore her,” Henry demanded, suddenly sounding much older than his years as he glared at his birthmother, whose cheeks tinged in guilt.

“I wasn’t going to,” she lied as she picked up the phone. This had to be at least the tenth time Regina had tried to call her that day, but she had continuously let them all go to voicemail. She didn’t want to explain how this was her fault.

But apparently it was all _Henry’s_ fault now, so…

Emma put the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

“I’m only calling you as a courtesy to inform you that I… may have slept with one of your clones last night.” 

No hello. No pleasantries. Just _that._

All the color drained from Emma’s face. “…You may have done _what?_ ”

Regina snorted on the other line, bitterly amused by the blonde’s reaction. “Of course I didn’t, dear, but that was what I was going to text you should you have failed to pick up yet _another_ one of my phone calls. I’m pleased to see that it would have at least caught your attention.”

Jesus fucking—

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring _me,_ Emma,” Regina reminded her, her voice hard to mask the hurt she felt. Still, Emma saw right through it and it made her stomach twist into knots. Had Henry been _right?_ “So I believe, if anyone is the ass in this situation, it would be you.”

Point taken. Emma sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “Look, I’m— I’m sorry,” she struggled to get out. “I was only trying to figure out what caused all this.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah,” Emma responded, glancing down at their son who was still fidgeting. “Henry apparently made a wish.”

“ _He_ wished for me to be haunted by a Christmas carol?”

“No, he… uh,” Emma stumbled, realizing she didn’t exactly know the specifics. Covering the phone with her hand, she looked down at Henry and asked, “What was it exactly that you wished for?”

Henry scrunched up his face in guilt and muttered, “For my family to get what they wanted for Christmas…” Leaning against the island counter, he stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. “I wished on a shooting star; I thought it’d be more likely to come true that way. I just really wanted everyone to be happy, Emma.”

God, that broke her heart. 

Emma suppressed that emotion though, knowing it was something they’d have to deal with later anyhow, and relayed this information to Regina. The woman swore. “I’m going to kill those damned fairies,” she muttered. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get work done when you have nine princesses dancing all around you? I had to barricade myself in my bedroom after throwing things at Snow White’s clone became more of a chore than anything else.”

Emma frowned, despite the visual being a little funny. Still, she felt guilty. “I’m really sorry, Regina.”

That seemed to remind Regina who had actually made the wish that she would _get_ said things for the holidays, and she responded, “Yes, _about_ that…”

“Please don’t ask,” Emma begged. “Like really, please don’t. Just know that it was an accident, and that I’m very, _very_ sorry.”

“I’m aware of that, dear,” Regina answered softly. And then there was a hesitation, but only slight as she questioned. “What I _don’t_ understand, however, is why your Christmas wish was to give me… _this._ ”

“It wasn’t, okay? It was just some… some spur of the moment thought brought about by extenuating circumstances and probably way too much liquor. Besides, it got blown _way_ out of proportion anyway and just—look, let’s just go to the Blue Fairy in the morning and see if she can reverse it, okay? Then we can forget all of this happened. Please.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and Emma tried to hide her blushing cheeks from her son. She just really never wanted to explain this. Ever.

“Fine,” Regina said after a long moment, although it seemed like she was fighting with the urge to question the blonde more. “I’ll see you at eight o’clock. Don’t be late, because I really don’t think I’ll have long until the spell begins to follow me.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t be.”

Because really, this thing needed to end like, _yesterday._

 

**10.**

“I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or _won’t?_ ” Regina challenged.

Blue looked down her nose at the two women in her presence. “Even if I had the power, it’s not in our nature to _take back_ what it is a child wished for, despite it having… dissatisfactory results. I’m sorry.”

“Listen, Lady,” Emma responded, her nostrils flaring. “Regina’s house had become a fucking circus; this morning a copy of my father nearly kicked me in the freaking _face_ with his frantic leaping around the front porch. Henry just wanted us all to be _happy_ for Christmas, and one of your people went about that the wrong damn way, okay? Because hello, do we _look_ happy to you?!”

Blue seemed unperturbed by her grievances. “Your son wished for everyone to get what they wanted for the holidays, _not_ that you would all be happy, despite him believing that it would make you so. Specifics are important, and unfortunately, one of you wished this into creation.”

“But I _didn’t!_ ” Emma raged, throwing out her hands. “It was just some stupid, drunken thought; I didn’t even say it out loud!”

“What matters is the emotion behind it, Emma, not whether or not you voice it,” Blue explained, like she was talking down to someone of a lesser intelligence. “For this to have come into being, you must have felt very strongly about it at the time.”

Regina’s eyes widened in surprise.

Emma blushed and looked away.

“I’m sorry, but the most I can offer you is the assurance that because this wish was centered around Christmas, once that time has passed everything should return to normal.”

“If I find out that you’re lying about your inability to rectify this—” Regina warned, eyes flashing. But that was as far as she got as suddenly a hen popped into existence at the brunette’s feet. All three women started as two more followed.

_Pop! Pop!_

“Oh god,” Emma breathed, realizing that they had run out of time. But God, she hadn’t really— it had only been ten minutes!

_Pop!_

Apparently that didn’t matter.

A cow crunched one of the pews into nothing as it materialized on top of it, mooing in discomfort as the milk maid tripped over the remnants of the broken wood.

“Shit, Regina, we need to go before—!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Blue cried, averting her eyes at the abundance of wet, naked Emma clones that had suddenly materialized in her convent. Emma basically wanted to die on the spot; this was so the opposite of what she wanted to happen today.

“Give me your hand,” Regina instructed before grasping ahold of the blonde, immediately poofing them back to her manor. They completely abandoned their cars with the hope that the quicker they left, the quicker Emma’s seven embarrassments would follow behind them, and they weren’t wrong.

Unfortunately, they came back in the same sporadic and disorganized way that they had followed Regina before, and suddenly things were _everywhere;_ it was like they were coming from all sides, and right after Emma got hit in the face by a dancing Ariel-clone with a ridiculously long arm span, Regina took hold of her hand once more and frantically rushed them both into her bedroom, sealing the door with magic.

There was a crash outside, followed by the sound of squawking birds as the two women backed away from the door. “…This is bad,” Emma muttered, guilt washing over her once more because Jesus Christ, she had _caused_ this disaster.

Regina just harrumphed, crossing her arms over her chest as she shot back, “Do you think? I really hope you’re pleased with yourself, Miss Swan.”

Emma sighed, feeling completely defeated as she slumped against the far wall. Was Christmas over yet?

 

**11.**

They were trapped.

Or, more specifically, _Regina_ was trapped and Emma, knowing full well that this was all her fault, didn’t have the heart to just leave her alone to deal with the mess _she_ had started. As it was already, Regina would be unable to attend Christmas with her son; the Twelve days of Fuckery had completely taken over her house and the mess was… well, Henry just really didn’t need be anywhere near this, especially since the eleven pipers ending up being clones of Pan and his Lost Boys, and the last thing the kid needed was a reminder of Neverland. They were all still trying to move past that.

So they promised the kid that they would have a nice, big family Christmas all together a day late. That was all he had wanted, right? So yeah, they would make that happen. Everyone was in agreement, even Gold (well, after Regina had spewed some very choice threats, that was), so now all they had to do was sit back and wait for the twenty-sixth to roll around.

It sucked, being forced to celebrate a day late, but it was better than nothing.

“Regina?” Emma questioned as she lay on her side, just to the left of Regina who was reading on her bed. One of the cows had planted itself in front of the bedroom door and refused to move, so they had been barricaded in the brunette’s bedroom since they had come back; which wasn’t the worst thing, as neither of them really wanted to venture out into the madness that had become Regina’s house.

Thankfully the brunette’s master bathroom was connected to the bedroom, and that Regina could poof food in from her kitchen whenever she wanted to. It made being unable to leave more bearable.

Well, that, and there were definitely worse places to be trapped than Regina Mills’ _bedroom._

“Hmm?” Regina answered distractedly as she turned another page in her book, peering through her glasses that rested delicately on the bridge of her nose. She looked so fucking sexy when she was relaxing in her PJs that Emma had to remind herself not to stare; she was supposed to be getting _over_ her crush after all, not encouraging it.

“What did you wish for?”

Regina noticeably tensed for a moment before allowing herself to side-eye the blonde next to her. “Why do you assume I wished for something?” she asked, keeping her voice level to try to appear disinterested in the conversation.

“Because Henry’s wish was for the whole family to get what they wanted, and everyone else did,” Emma answered. She raised an eyebrow at the woman next to her as she began to list off on her fingers the other things she had learned recently. “That’s why Neal’s trapped in Gold’s house, and why my dad—”

“Perhaps I was just skipped in Henry’s little wish,” Regina interrupted, although the tips of her ears seemed to turn a little bit pink. “I’m not blood related, after all.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not. I adopted him, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma responded with an eye roll. “Come on, just tell me. It can’t be any worse than mine.”

“Nothing’s worse than this catastrophe, Miss Swan.”

Emma frowned and Regina sighed, putting her book down on the bedside table. “Fine,” she relented. “I… may have wished for this voice that you seem to be so fond of.”

“Wait, seriously?” Emma asked, her eyes widening as she straightened her spine. “That’s not your real singing voice?”

Regina pursed her lips and looked away. “…No.”

“But why…” Emma asked, her brow furrowing. “Why did you want that? Did you always want to be a singer or something?”

“No.”

Emma’s confused look furthered. “So then why…?”

“Unless you plan to tell me why you wished the Twelve Days of Christmas into creation, I am not going to tell you the motivations of my own desires.”

Emma puffed out her cheeks as she sighed dramatically. “Oh come on, mine’s actually _embarrassing—_ ”

“As is mine, dear.”

“Okay fine, but mine actually has to do with _you,_ not—”

Regina pursed her lips and side-glanced the blonde next to her, saying nothing at all which, in the end, spoke louder than words ever could. Emma’s jaw dropped. “Wait, yours was about _me?_ ”

“Perhaps,” Regina admitted, avoiding eye contact. “But seeing as you don’t wish to reveal your own secret, I am not apt to admit my own. So if we’re done…” Regina went to pick up her book again, but Emma reached over and grasped the brunette’s hand to pull her back to the conversation.

The curiosity was _killing_ her.

“No, wait,” Emma pleaded. “Let’s just… okay, here’s the deal—I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours, okay? I promise.”

God, she really hoped this wasn’t going to backfire. But there was this burning feeling in her gut ever since Regina admitted that it had been about her, because it was strange, wasn’t it? What did Regina having a better singing voice have to do with _her?_ How did she benefit from it at all? There was more to this than meets the eye, and the hopeful part of Emma was desperate to see if Regina’s embarrassment was due to the same reason _she_ was hesitant to admit her reasoning.

“Why do I have to go first?”

“Fine, we’ll do rock, paper, scissors.” 

Regina rolled her eyes. “That is so terribly juveni—”

“Ready… _go!_ ”

Emma hit her fist on her hand twice before Regina relented and joined in for a third. She threw paper, Regina threw rock. Emma smirked; she knew the brunette would pick that. It just seemed so _her._

“You lost; fess up.”

Regina sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking apprehensive about ever having agreed to this.

Still, a deal was a deal, and so after a long hesitation, Regina finally mumbled something under her breath. 

Emma’s brow furrowed. “…What?”

“I wanted to… _impress_ you,” Regina ground out through her teeth, her cheeks flaring red at her own admission. Emma’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the other woman in disbelief. She… _really?_

“Why…?”

“That was not part of the deal,” Regina reminded her, avoiding eye contact. She looked really embarrassed about admitting that, and it caused Emma’s breathing to shallow as she found herself hoping for a reason that was probably still very unlikely, because… even—even _if_ Regina wanted to get her attention because she had a thing for her, then why the hell didn’t she return the kiss when Emma had tried the last time?

It just didn’t make sense.

“I believe it’s your turn, Miss Swan.”

Oh.

Oh, _fuck._

How the hell was she going to word this where it didn’t make her sound like a creepy weirdo? Emma hesitated, and it was clearly for far too long because Regina just shook her head and leaned back against her pillows. “It’s alright,” she told her, sighing softly. “I already know; you don’t have to say it, no matter how much I think I might enjoy just making you admit it.”

Emma’s eyes widened, her heart rate suddenly tripling. “You… you know?”

“It isn’t the first time someone wished something upon me with ill intent, dear,” Regina responded, trying to keep her voice level in order to suppress the hurt she was trying to bury. Emma could see it in her eyes. “And although it would have been amusing to watch you come to terms with the fact that you aren’t as _good_ as our son seems to think you are, I—”

“What? No!” Emma interrupted, looking at Regina like she had gone insane. “You really think I—oh my god, are you _joking?_ ” 

Now it was Regina’s turn to look puzzled. “…You didn’t do this to be malicious?”

“Of course not!” Emma exclaimed, looking offended that Regina would even think that. “Regina, what I wished for was such the fucking _opposite_ of malicious that it’s not even funny. Jesus, how could you _ever—?_ ”

“Well then if you weren’t wishing this chaos upon me to be cruel, then why were you?”

“I just—!” Emma began, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson before the words even made it past her lips. But she just pushed past it, because in the end, she’d rather Regina know the truth than believe such a horrible lie. “You were… God, you were singing the stupid song, you know? For one of your solos. And I… I was just staring at you, thinking about how aggravating it was that you had to be so fucking beautiful and perfect all the time, and then I had this thought—this, the one _tiny_ thought that somehow blew up into _this_ and—”

“What…” Regina began softly, her expression softening in the wake of her unexpected surprise. “What thought?” Emma just looked away as she shook her head, cheeks flaming so hot now it felt like they were going to burst, and Regina gently took her hand in hers and prodded, “Emma… tell me. You promised.”

Emma looked down at their linked hands, trying to muster up the courage to say the words just from the gesture alone. Because it wasn’t platonic, right? It wasn’t— “That if… that if you were _my_ True Love,” she began, voice so terribly small and unsure of herself. God, she couldn’t look at Regina when she said this. “Then I would have gladly given you all that and… and more.”

Silence. It was fucking deafening.

Emma felt like she was suffocating beneath the weight of it, and yet in some desperate need to make what she said sound less like a declaration of some kind of secret love and more like the idiocy of a drunk, she started babbling, “I know it’s stupid, but I was—you know, nervous I guess, about singing in front of everyone even though I really wasn’t _singing_ – just being up there for everyone to stare at – so I kinda drank a little before the show started and yeah, I guess my thoughts weren’t the most… _whatever,_ but I was only trying to—”

“Shut up.”

“Wha—?” Emma tried to question, but right as she looked up in surprise, a warm palm was pressed against her cheek just as a pair of soft lips enveloped her own, and suddenly Emma felt like she was falling into the woman as she allowed Regina to steal the breath from her lungs in a gesture so unexpected she felt as though she must be dreaming it.

As such, it took a moment for Emma’s brain to catch up to what was happening, but once it had she got up on her haunches to tower over her, tangling her fingers in Regina’s hair as she parted her lips and allowed the woman into a place in her heart that had always been open to her, should she have just looked hard enough.

A small whimper escaped Regina’s lips as her head hit the pillows, and when Emma slipped her leg between hers, the brunette grasped onto her hand and gasped against her lips, “Why didn’t you ever tell me…?”

Emma closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the other woman’s, her breathing coming out in short pants as suddenly she allowed herself to feel everything that she had buried for so long. “I… I was scared. And I thought, after I kissed you that night…”

“You were drunk,” Regina breathed, sounding regrettable. “I thought that was the only reason you had—”

“It wasn’t.”

Regina chewed softly on her bottom lip, looking up at the woman hovering above her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wished I had realized earlier that your intentions were… more than what they seemed.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma assured her, smiling softly as she pecked her cheek, the side of her mouth, her jaw. “It doesn’t matter anymore, because you know now. And I’m just… I’m really sorry that my wish turned into… well, _this._ It wasn’t what I meant. At like, _all_ , really…”

“I know,” Regina assured her with a soft chuckle, running her thumb over the back of the blonde’s hand as she smiled up at her. “But… thank you, for thinking of me in such a way. I probably don’t deserve half of what you seem to want to give me, but—”

“You do,” Emma interrupted with conviction, looking down at the woman beneath her. “Regina, you _do_ because you’re… you’re perfect, you know?”

Regina blushed and averted her gaze. “Emma…”

“No,” Emma responded, placing a knuckle beneath the brunette’s chin to gently turn her gaze back towards her. “I’ve wanted to tell you that forever, and now that I can, I just… you’re fucking _perfect,_ Regina.” She smiled at how shy those words made Regina look, and her lips found her neck, her cheek, her ear before she breathed, voice filled with so much care and adoration, “You’re perfect…”

Because to her, she really was.

 

**12.**

Emma had never been one to believe the theory that ‘slow is better’ when it came to relationships. Neither, it seemed, did Regina.

Heated kisses quickly turned into frantic touching, and soon the two women were grasping for one another, naked and sweating and panting each other’s names into the stillness of the room as they sought to take everything the other was willing to give. Regina’s nails were piercing Emma’s skin as she sought for an anchor to reality, one leg having been thrown over the blonde’s shoulder as the woman atop her began to push into her harder, faster… just completely enthralled by the pleasure that etched itself across Regina’s face as her orgasm began its rapid approach. It was beautiful. _She_ was beautiful.

“Emma… _Emma!_ ” Regina cried, her toes curling and her back arching as her breathing got shallower, her hips beginning to twitch as she got higher… higher… “Oh, oh fuck, oh please; _please…!_ ”

The sound of drumming in the distance seemed to appear then as if from nowhere, and suddenly Regina was biting down on the blonde’s shoulder to stop herself from screaming, all of her muscles tensing inside of her as she slammed on Emma’s back over and over with the palm of her hand, falling from the peak the blonde had brought her to.

Regina collapsed then in a wave of exhaustion and afterglow, and Emma couldn’t help herself; she started laughing. 

“I just got a drumroll for your orgasm,” she told Regina, off of the hazy and confused look that was shot her way. Looking at her sheepishly, Emma mumbled, “Sorry, it’s just… funny. And it made me feel kinda awesome.”

Regina, still trying to catch her breath, outright rolled her eyes at that before looking at the clock, confirming what they both already knew; it was midnight, and the twelve drummers had arrived. With a wave of her hand, the room was enveloped in silence once more, and Emma chuckled softly as she moved to lie on the woman’s other side.

They laid there in peaceful silence for a while, Emma tracing idle patterns against the brunette’s skin, before she looked up at the woman and asked softly, “Will you sing to me?”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “Now?”

“No,” Emma shook her head. “I mean when the spell wears off. I want to… I wanna hear _you,_ Regina; even if it’s just once.”

“Why? You’ll only be disappointed.”

“I doubt it,” Emma told her honestly, tucking a strand of chocolate brown hair behind the woman’s ear. “Henry said you used to sing to him all the time when he was younger, so you must be comfortable enough with your voice on some level.” Smiling, Emma nudged her before continuing, “Besides, I had a thing for you _way_ before you started channeling Celine Dion, so it isn’t like that was a deciding factor in anything.”

“And yet you kissed me right after you heard me sing,” Regina pointed out, but she smirked when she said it and didn’t sound as though the change in her voice actually worried her any, at least as far as their budding relationship was concerned.

“Hey, I was _drunk_ and you were…” Emma tried to defend, shaking her head as she chuckled. “Okay, this is gonna sound—stupid probably, but as amazing as your voice was, it wasn’t that that made me want to kiss you.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It was more… I don’t know, your confidence, I guess,” Emma admitted, shrugging a little as she remembered back to that night. “You just _knew_ everyone’s eyes were on you, and you loved it. It made you look so much more powerful and alluring and… and kind of like this untouchable being that—”

“You tried to touch,” Regina finished for her, chuckling. Emma flushed.

“Like I said; _drunk,_ ” she reminded her, ears turning a bit pink. “But… yeah. I don’t know, I just couldn’t help it. You were so beautiful up there and I wanted to… I guess _show_ you how beautiful I thought you were.”

Regina smiled, cupping Emma’s cheek in her hand as she gently kissed her on the lips. She apparently didn’t know what to say to that, but that was okay; Emma would take this kind of response every day for the rest of her life, should she be able to.

As Regina pulled back, Emma looked into her eyes and returned her smile with one of her own. “Merry Christmas, Regina,” she whispered, thumb dusking the brunette’s cheek.

A gentle kiss was placed atop the blonde’s forehead, another smile being etched into her skin as Regina breathed, finally sounding so very happy about the holiday, “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

**THE END**


End file.
